


boys will be boys, and the dead will be the undead

by wan (kuro49)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/wan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or Akaashi wishes he joined the baseball team instead and Bokuto makes his kills by boxing the undead back into the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	boys will be boys, and the dead will be the undead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atomeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomeek/gifts).



> prompt: comically realistic zombie apocalypse au.
> 
> i don't even go here?? at least not entirely???

Akaashi stands in the middle of an open field in the midday sun, keeping watch among the inconsistent noise of cicadas and the slow summer breeze.

A stray away from its pack is probably nothing to be alarmed about.

But Akaashi likes to be prepared. Joining the baseball team back when he was a first year at Fukurodani could have been a little bit more practical in retrospect but even Akaashi couldn’t have prepared for this. And what this is, it is a zombie apocalypse.

After all, setting does very little damage when you are looking to make a kill shot every time when it comes to the undead.

His modified bat in hand, Akaashi Keiji is steady in the face of danger. The noon sun bright above him, the trickling of sweat slow down his back, he is quiet as he waits for that singular collision to be made.

This is far from his first kill.

He doesn’t yell for Bokuto-san, just counts down the seconds his captain still needs in his head. After all, he hardly needs Bokuto to make another running start, arms pumping, boxing gloves securely on both hands as he tackles the undead to the ground. Like that very first time Akaashi makes the mistake of hesitating. Even when he looks far more determined than he actually feels, Akaashi has never been less than sure from then on.

He needs his captain focused on the supply list and not on anything else. Even with the world all different, Akaashi knows Bokuto's personality is very much the same. He is still one to be distracted by the flashier things he comes across, and the undead is very much at the top of the list.

The swing Akaashi makes now, when this zombie finally drags its feet close enough, is so satisfying despite the splatter of months old decay. That, he expects. The voice that booms from behind him, he does not even when he really should.

“Annnd that’s a hole in one!”

Akaashi is careful, looking away only when the zombie is finally still. Turning around, he finds the captain of the Fukurodani boys’ volleyball team standing just behind him, peering down at that same mess at his feet, looking far more impressed given his own kill record.

“You are thinking of golf, Bokuto-san.”

“Really?”

Akaashi nods as he wipes the blunt end of the baseball bat against the grass, a feeble attempt at getting the last of the brain matter off of the lacquered wood.

The soft whistle Bokuto lets out really is far more distracting than it really should be.

“You really do know it all, Akaashi.”

Akaashi doesn’t correct the awe when it really should be common sense. Instead, he lets Bokuto take his hand as the two of them head back, warmth settling right where his baseball bat swinging days are making themselves known with calluses at the heel of his palms. Where Bokuto keeps him from fiddling with his hands again, Akaashi keeps his captain grounded when he feels compelled to bodily tackle another undead to the ground.

There are the replenished supplies tucked safely inside of Bokuto’s backpack.

There is their way through this wasteland back home. A lot of things may be different, like the dried blood beneath his fingernails and the hair tangled in the rusty nails of his bat. But Bokuto is grinning the same grin as the times when he gets to spike a particularly well placed toss from his setter.

And really, that isn't all that different than the upturned corners to Akaashi's mouth now.

A lot of things may be different, but the two of them really haven't changed all that much.

 

omake.

When Bokuto runs out of words a block from the school, Akaashi finally asks.

“…Why the football helmet?”

He watches the wide arc it makes as Bokuto swings it in pace to each stride they make. After all, it isn't on the list.

“Kuroo asked me to pick one up on my next run—”

And before Bokuto can finish, Akaashi figures his question really could have gone unasked. He finishes his sentence for him.

“—For Kenma.”

 


End file.
